Little Lambs
by SusieSamurai
Summary: Claire Fuller was a good girl. She went to church. She went to college. She didn't fool around with boys. She made her daddy proud. And then her mother died. Kidnapped by the Gecko brothers, secrets threaten to tear the Fuller family apart if the brothers don't do it first. Claire desperately grasping at the fraying edges of trust in an effort to keep her family together and alive.
1. Prologue

**Preface**

Claire Fuller was a good girl.

She went to church. She went to college. She didn't fool around with boys. She made her daddy proud.

She made her daddy proud.

And right now her daddy was telling her to kill him. The first man who she'd ever loved. The man who had taught her the meaning of unconditional love. Who had forgiven her everything, and would also forgive her this, was begging for her to kill him.

Shaking fingers flexed reflexively around the splintered piece of wood he was pressing against his chest. Blood, cold and sticky, coated her hands and tears coursed hot and wet over her cheeks. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill him.

Surely there was another way? Isn't that what happened in the movies? The hero found _another way_? Only, there were no heroes here. Just two scared little girls and a father terrified of the monster he would become.

Her younger sister was warm against her side, silent weeping punctuated by heart-wrenching hiccups. Little Katie-Kakes. Barely a woman and now a victim of war. Because that's what this was, a war. And there were no heroes here, just scared little girls and monsters.

The silver cross around Kate's neck caught the light, reflected off the desperate sheen of her father's eyes. Claire started when she felt slick fingers curl around her own and blinked the tears back to confirm that Kate was gripping that piece of wood now too.

Green eyes met green and Claire was overwhelmed by the resolve in her little sisters gaze. Grief, torment, fear, but a firm resolve to do the right thing. To be a dutiful daughter and follow her father's wishes. Even if that took away a part of them they would _never_ get back.

Claire had always been a good girl. So she did what she had to.

In that moment Claire gently knocked her sister aside, prayed that God would forgive her, and drove that piece of wood into her daddy's chest with all the strength within her. She held his gaze throughout, her penance for this sin he was making her commit. She listened as the words of forgiveness and praise that fell from his lips were drowned by the blood bubbling down his chin. A sound like a wounded animal tore free from her throat as she shuddered and tried to remember how to breathe.

There were no heroes here.

* * *

AN: Hi guys! Please let me know if you enjoyed this snippet of Claire's tale - I've got 3 chapters finished and waiting but it all depends on how much interest I get as to how fast they'll be posted.

Read and Review!

\- susiesamurai xo


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One - Just A Soul Whose Intentions Are Good**

Growing up every little girl thinks of their dad as a hero. Claire Fuller was no different.

Pastor Jacob Fuller was the sort of father every girl deserved. Patient and kind with a never-ending capacity for forgiveness and understanding. Throughout her childhood, he had been there with a warm smile and a gentle hand. Imparting wisdom with a firm tongue and understanding eyes. Claire had never felt the need to rebel because she had never felt stifled. There hadn't been an urge to push the boundaries because Claire had always understood why they were there.

That didn't mean that she was weak, however.

When she received the phone call that her mother had died and her father was in the hospital from a car crash, she had driven the three and a half hours from Baylor to Bethel without hesitation. Only stopping once to use the restroom and refill the gas tank. Striding into St Mary's wearing patterned socks, cotton boxers, and an oversized T-Shirt she had demanded to see her father with an air of authority that you'd expect from someone in a pantsuit. Not a college student with a sloppy ponytail and glasses falling down her nose.

The pain of it all nearly killed her. Her father was inconsolable. Refusing to get out of bed for days. Her siblings were worse. Scott lashed out in anger, fits and spurts of cruel words followed by remorseful tears. Kate withdrew into herself, barely speaking to anyone unless necessary and avoided eye contact if at all possible. Claire had handled the funeral arrangements alone in the beginning, fielding the visits from well-meaning members of Jacobs congregation and finding nonexistent room in the fridge for yet another casserole.

The day of Jennifer Fuller's funeral, Claire visited her mother's grave alone in the twilight hours. Streaks of red and gold coloring the simple cemetery surrounded only by the sound of cicadas in the early spring warmth. Kneeling beside the soft tilled earth of her grave she had traced the words on her headstone with trembling fingers. She cried harder than anyone had ever done before. She died inside. She buried it.

And then she took care of her family.

At first, her father wouldn't eat. It was a challenge to get him to shower, taking both she and Scott to force him under the spray. Jacob Fuller was broken and lost and riddled with pain. He didn't know how to exist in a world without his wife. His children didn't know how to exist in a world without their mother. But Claire tried.

God, did she try.

Moving back into her childhood bedroom had been hard. Since leaving Bethel three years ago she had carved out a nice little life for herself in Dallas. She was only a few months away from registering for the MCAT, the past few years of hellish pre-med study about to be all worth it. Life had been a tiny studio apartment with a leaky shower head and temperamental air-conditioner, an abundance of tiny cacti and succulents and medical texts, but it had been hers. She was barely twenty-two and here she was playing wife, mother, and sister.

It was a little under six months following the funeral when her father pulled up outside the house in an RV that had seen better days ten years ago. Concerned about the impulse purchase, so out of character for her homebody father, Claire pushed it aside when she noticed that this was the most animated he had been since her mother's death. If a family vacation in that death-trap was what he needed to move forward, then by god she would support him.

There had been the obvious hurdle in the form of Kate. The high school senior adamant in not wanting to sacrifice her teenage experience to live out a lifetime movie. There had been tears and slamming doors and silent treatment for a week. Claire had been equal parts shocked and frustrated.

But in the end, her little sister had accepted her fate with grace and the Fuller family had boarded that rickety RV with nothing but a hope and a prayer and left Bethel behind.

* * *

"_...and now on a serious note, folks. The Department of Public Safety has just put out an advisory for two men reportedly behind a violent bank robbery in Abilene this morning. They're looking for two males, late twenties, wearing dark blue suits, believed to be armed and dangerous -"_

Crackling static filled the RV, cutting off the radio announcer mid-sentence as Jacob Fuller changed the channel. Settling on a gospel station he was quick to sing along to the dulcet tones turned tinny by the speakers that let out small pops every ten minutes. It was the most obvious and poor attempt at nonchalance that Claire had ever witnessed and she couldn't help the pitying look she slanted her father's way from her place in the passenger seat.

Heart-shaped glasses covered the majority of her face as she sprawled in her seat, feet propped up on the dash, basking in the midday sun filtering through the windscreen. Long blonde hair turning to spun gold where it spilled over slender shoulders, Claire had always been described as a southern belle. Much like her sister she was softly featured with pretty pink lips and doe-eyes. Their coloring being the only difference. Claire with her sun-kissed freckled skin while Kate was pale with dark hair that shone red in the sun. Resting against her chest was a small golden cross, the twin to her sisters, the physical representation of their faith.

Across from her, hands firm on the steering wheel at ten and two, her daddy warbled contentedly along to the radio. Blue eyes clear and peering out from below his hat, gray hair combed neatly back and his whiskers neatly trimmed. It was the most content she had seen him in weeks and Claire had no intention of ruining it. Even though she couldn't sing to save her life, Kate and their mother being the songbirds of the family, she still raised her voice and joined him. Cherishing the softness of his face when she did so.

"Shoulda have used some of that collection money for singing lessons, huh Claire-Bear?" He asked with a wry grin.

"I don't think the congregation could stand it, Daddy," Kate piped up from behind them, putting her phone down for the first time since they'd left. Claire was certain that she was texting that Kyle Winthrop boy that she had caught her kissing behind the church last time she came home from college but had yet to voice her suspicions.

Coming to stand between the seats she braced herself on the headrests, Claire craning her neck to gaze up at her from beneath her glasses.

"You want to sit down, Katie?" She asked, already pulling her knees towards her chest and making moves to stand up.

"Please," Kate replied with a twitch of her mouth that could have been mistaken for a smile.

Claire understood her sister's frustrations, she really did. Did Kate believe that Claire had been happy to leave everything behind also? That she hadn't also had a life, friends, responsibilities? But at the end of the day family was most important. Family was who would be there when the chips were down and there was nowhere else to turn but Jesus. She owed it to her father to do this for him. After years of giving and giving of himself, it was his turn to be a little bit selfish.

Gently squeezing down on her father's shoulder as she moved into the RV proper, Claire dropped down onto the couch directly behind the driver's seat. Bracing herself against the rhythmic swaying of the RV Claire made eye-contact with where Scott sprawled over the table down the back of the vehicle. Headphones on Scott screwed up his face at her, grinning widely at the resulting giggle it elicited. Lifting up her thumb Claire silently asked if he was okay, shrugging when he waggled a thumb back in return.

Ever since her parents had brought Scott home a few months following Kate's ninth birthday, Claire had been in love. This little golden-skinned bean with a shock of black hair and large dark eyes that would blink up at her beneath the folds of his eyelids. Jacob had explained that they had adopted him and something within Claire had resonated with that boy. The thirteen-year-old had locked eyes with that seven-year-old who spoke broken English and hid behind her mother's skirts and all she could think was: _mine_.

The very next day she had marched to Bethel public library and checked out all of the books they had on learning Mandarin.

Raised voices caught their attention and Claire turned her head back to the front of the RV, her father singing a little bit more loudly as Kate scowled.

"Yeah, right. No thanks!"

The chime of a phone going off cut through all the noise and Claire keenly watched as Kate checked her phone, taking care to angle the screen away from their father. Of course, this only made her actions more suspicious and Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her younger sisters antics. The Winthrop boy wasn't even that cute. Skinny and pale and in need of a good haircut, Claire didn't think it was worth the risk Kate was taking messing around with him.

"Who's that?"

Looked as though her father's eyes were just as keen, even while driving down the dusty Texan road.

"Nobody," Kate replied quickly. Too quickly. If she wanted to keep secrets, Claire thought, she needed to learn to control the hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"Is that that Winthrop boy from church?" There was an edge of annoyance to her father's voice now. A mixture of his little girl talking to boys and attempting to lie about it to his face.

"His name is Kyle," Kate sighed, "and he's just wanting to know when we're gonna be back."

"Kyle can wait," Jacob was firm in his answer as his eyes once again fixed on the road, considering the subject dropped. "In fact," he added protectively, "waiting is a fine skill for him to acquire."

"Ha ha, very funny," Kate drawled unamusedly, shooting a narrow look over her shoulder when she heard Claire's smothered snorting giggle.

"Daddy…" Kate's voice was tentative, "this whole thing… it's all so sudden don't ya think?"

"Well," Jacob rolled the word around his mouth for a long moment, "I prefer spontaneous."

"We're not gonna be gone too long, right? I mean, we got school."

"You and your brother are exceptional students," Jacob declared, "and your sister has taken a leave from her studies. So you'll either catch up or go back to home school."

"You're kidding me, right?" Kate's voice was deceptively flat as she levelled a gaze at her father.

Meanwhile, Claire held back a wince of guilt at her father's words. While the faculty of Baylor had been sympathetic following her mother's passing, allowing her a small mourning period, that same understanding didn't extend farther than a month. It had come down to her schooling or her family and it was only with the tiniest hint of resentment, resentment that she buried down deep, that Claire dropped out of college and moved back home. Of course, her family was unaware of this. They believed she was just taking a break and would go back any day now.

It wasn't that easy, though.

"It's my Senior year, dad," Kate continued, the edge to her voice becoming sharper, "I have Homecoming and friends and… I have a life."

Allowing her to finish Jacob agreed, "You certainly do. With me and your siblings right here on this RV."

His voice was firm, resolute, any further arguments would only be futile. With a scowl and a noise that could almost be described as a smothered shriek, Kate pushed out of her chair and stood over Claire.

"I'd like my seat back, please," Kate told her older sister through gritted teeth, fingers tapping impatiently against the denim covering her thigh. Itching to text her no good boyfriend no doubt.

The toilet flushed and Scott exited the tiny RV bathroom, a wide shit-eating grin on his face as he looked at his sisters. Knowing instinctively what that meant and wanting to put as much distance between that room and herself, Claire practically launched herself off the couch and smiled while passing Kate. "All yours Katie."

Claire grinned when she heard Kate's gasp of disgust as the smell finally hit her, having to bite back a giggle as Scott squirmed happily in his seat.

"Good Lord, light a match!" Kate cried, face pinched and nostrils flaring.

"Only gonna get worse," Scott warned with the type of glee that only came from a brother teasing his sister, "By the time we get to Mexico, this thing is gonna be running on a whole different kind of gas."

"You're disgusting," Kate informed him as though she were the leading expert of such things.

"I'm awesome," Scott crowed, brandishing his _Viva Lucha_ comic at her, "like these guys."

"Can you even read that?"

"I like the pictures."

"You know that stuff is rigged, right?"

"Yeah, but the rules are like way looser down there," Scott explained, "also, the more of a freak you are, the more popular you become."

"Well then, you're gonna fit right in."

Propping her feet up on the dash let out a small yawn as she settled down into the upholstery, finding a comfortable position. A soft smile spread across her face as she listened to her sibling's good-natured bickering, feeling more normal at that moment than she had since they'd left. Glasses sliding down her nose slightly her breathing gradually evened out as she fell into a light sleep.

* * *

Bob's Brisket may have been constructed entirely out of dusty planks of wood and looked like a stiff wind would blow it over, but good Lord did it make a good sandwich.

Sitting on top of the little picnic table outside under the shade of a small copse of trees Claire hummed contentedly around her lunch. There was just something about good old Texas barbecue that healed the soul, in her opinion. Tangy crispy slaw making a satisfying crunch when she bit down.

"Are you eating that sandwich or making love to it?" Scott asked with a cheeky grin.

Waggling her brows in return Claire replied, "Scottie if this here sandwich were a man we'd be getting married faster than you could blink. Luckily for daddy, ain't no man gonna treat me as good as this sandwich is right now."

The Fuller family had made the pit stop after fifteen minutes straight pleading from Kate needing a break from the rattling death-trap and her brother's digestive issues. A sign on the side of the road had advertised Bob's Brisket twenty miles away and so the decision had been made to have an early lunch. Claire hadn't been complaining, any opportunity to eat was a good opportunity in her book. Her mother had once likened her eating habits to a bear getting ready to hibernate for winter. Saying it was a good thing she was so active otherwise she'd be plumper than a turkey.

Frowning at his watch Jacob asked, "Has anybody seen Kate? She's been gone for a while."

Cocking her head to the side Claire considered the last time she had seen her sister. It had to have been a good ten minutes ago when Kate had announced that she wanted to take advantage of a bathroom that wasn't moving and set off for the restrooms. "I'll go check if she's alright, daddy," Claire stood, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich and wiping her hands against her thighs. Shooting a wide smile at her daddy she was relieved when some of the concern faded from his face.

Entering the building Claire made her way to the back where the restrooms were. Rapping the back of her knuckles against the door to the ladies Claire called out, "Katie? You okay in there?"

When nothing but silence answered she tried again, rapping a little bit harder.

A tiny seed of suspicion was forming in the pit of her stomach. The constant texting between Kate and Kyle. The insistence to stop for lunch. It was all painting a picture of betrayal and planning that made Claire more than a little hurt with her sister's actions. It was disappointing and out of character and just so, so _bratty_.

"You looking for your sister, sweetheart?" A voice called out from behind. Turning, Claire saw the kindly older waitress who had taken their orders earlier, a woman with big blonde hair and a no-nonsense smile. "She took off around the back about five minutes ago."

Fist clenching Claire could already feel the heat of an angry flush spreading across her chest and up her neck. She couldn't believe it. Was Kate really that selfish? Did she think so little of her family that she would just sneak out like a thief in the night?

"Thank you," Claire managed to swallow down the building panic long enough to shoot the waitress a tremulous smile, "have a lovely day."

By the time she got back to the picnic table where her father and brother waited, she was near on vibrating, boot heels crunching into the gravel with the impact of a bullet going off. All she could think about was her ungrateful younger sister running off into some boys car and abandoning her family. After everything Claire herself had sacrificed Kate was acting like a family vacation her senior year was the end of the world like some little...brat.

"What's wrong Claire-Bear?" Jacob asked as she stopped short of the table, rising slowly as though already knowing her answer wouldn't be a happy one.

"Kate's run off," Claire bit out, "Off to meet that Winthrop boy, no doubt."

"Katie's done what now?" Jacob finished standing, blue eyes burning across at his daughter.

Scott snorted, "No surprises there."

With a jerk of her head, Claire marched off around the back of the building. "Come on, the waitress said she went this way."

In the several minutes it took to track down Kate and Kyle, his truck a cherry-red beacon, Claire had managed to calm down slightly. Trying to see things from Kate's point of view, trying to be understanding and forgiving like the good Lord would want her to be.

"Kate, what-what are you doing?" The hurt in Jacob's voice was palpable as he watched his daughter stand in front of that boy's truck, arms crossed defiantly.

"Yeah, Kate, what the Hell?" Scott burst out, scowling at his sister and the long-haired boy next to her in turns. "You were gonna leave us too?"

Silently, Claire observed Kyle Winthrop. The way the boy stood a little too close to Kate. His eyes a little too calculating. As though he was enjoying the family drama about to ensue. Claire had a bad feeling about this skinny little boy with his denim vest and plaid sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"What's going on here?" Jacob asked sternly, expecting a no-nonsense answer in reply, eyeing up the boy intending to take his daughter away.

"She texted him," Scott spat, eyes burning with betrayal, "I saw her."

Chin jutting out mulishly Kate taunted, "Tattletale."

Sighing, Jacob addressed Kyle, "I'm sorry that you had to drive all the way out here, son. I do appreciate your concern for my daughter, but this is a family matter." Jacob paused, as though conflicted about his next words, "It's- it's none of your business."

"All due respect, Kate made it my business," Kyle spoke up, meeting Jacob's gaze with a confidence that did not belong to a teenage church boy. All the while Kate stood next to him in agreement, gazing at her daddy as though he were some curly mustachioed villain tying her to the train tracks. "She's downright scared, the way you just packed her up and took her out of her life like that."

Narrowing her eyes at him Claire forced herself to bite her tongue. Her daddy wouldn't appreciate his daughter stepping in and fighting his battles for him. Not right now. Not in front of this boy and his children. But by God did she want to. So bad.

Rolling his shoulders back Jacob fixed that boy with his best reverend-stare, "Now, listen, I know your family for a long time now from church. Now, I don't want to call them up on account of you giving me any kind of trouble out here."

"Go ahead," Kyle challenged at the same time Kate cried, "Daddy, don't you dare."

"Call em," Kyle continued, smirking in a way that implied he knew something they didn't. Claire didn't like it one bit. It made her stomach twist unpleasantly.

In fact, she didn't like this entire situation one bit. It wasn't right. It wasn't what family did to one another. Family was trust and unconditional love. It was support and honesty. It wasn't sneaking around and keeping secrets and running off like a boy trying to escape an angry fathers shotgun.

"Now, Kyle, you're a good boy," Jacob tried to reason, "don't do anything to betray that."

"You're the traitor… reverend."

Claire reeled at the accusation falling so naturally from Kyle's lips, eyes rapidly darting between him and her father. The way he said it… the conviction behind it. That boy seriously believed her father had done something truly bad. That twisting feeling in her stomach got worse. Claire had never dealt well with conflict, it caused her anxiety to flare up making her clammy and jittery. She was a peace-keeper. The one who smoothed things over with a gentle hand and understanding words.

None of this sat well with her. None.

"What kind of man up and abandons his congregation?"

The words hit Claire like a physical blow, a soft sound escaping her mouth, and she blinked at her father in shock. "Abandons it?" She visibly recoiled from the whispered words, as though they hadn't come from her own mouth.

"What's he talkin' about, dad?" Scott demanded, that undercurrent of anger that never really left her brother alone leaking through.

"He didn't tell you?" Kyle asked lightly, looking inordinately pleased with the reactions his words elicited. He worked the Fuller's like an experienced con-man pulling a job, demanding attention. Feeding on it. "I talked to my mom. He quit the parish for good."

"You said it was just a break," Kate took a step forward, upset, "When were you gonna tell us?"

Jacob Fuller looked like a man defeated. Strung up by a rope of his own making. Standing on a dusty Texan road surrounded by the accusing and disappointed gazes of his children and a boy poking his nose where it didn't belong.

Meanwhile, Kyle Winthrop looked far too pleased for a boy whose words might tear a family apart.

"Soon as the time was right."

"But why dad?" Scott pushed, trying to understand desperately not wanting to believe that his father was a traitor or a coward. "Why would you quit?"

Heart beating in her chest, Claire barely noticed Kate demanding an answer or threatening to leave with Kyle and never coming back. Hot and lightheaded, she realised that her breath was coming in fast little gasps and made a concentrated effort to calm down. It was not the time for a panic attack. Without thinking, Claire reached out and hooked her fingers around her father's squeezing in an effort to anchor herself. Everything was falling apart.

Taking her touch as encouragement Jacob squeezed his daughters fingers in return before answering, "If you're a man of the cloth, be it any cloth, not a day goes by that you don't look in the mirror and wonder 'Am I a fraud'?"

Frowning Kate asked, "What are you talking about, Dad?"

Meanwhile, Claire blinked back tears since she knew exactly what her father was talking about. The same thing she had listening to him mumble in the moments between sleeping and waking when he had finally run out of tears for the night. Kate wouldn't know because she hadn't been there, so consumed in her own grief to notice anyone else's. But Claire had been there, she had lived it, all the while pushing her own aside to deal with at another time.

"A shepherd can't lead his flock if he's lost the path himself."

"Are you saying you don't believe anymore?"

Gazing at his distraught daughter Jacob Fuller didn't have an answer. And his silence spoke volumes of the internal turmoil he had been battling unbeknownst to his children. Tension was thick and cloying and Claire both wanted to burst into tears and hit Kyle Winthrop in the face.

Grabbing at Kate's arm Kyle began to tug her toward the truck. "I told you, come on. Let's go, now!"

"Let go of her!" Scott angrily strode after them, intentions painted clear across his face if he got ahold of the boy manhandling his sister. Boyfriend or not, pissed at her or not, Kate was his sister and no one touched her like that.

"Young man, let my daughter go," Jacob demanded, hand closing around Kyle's upper arm and making to pull him to a stop. Only he didn't get a chance as Kyle spun and hauled off and slugged him. Fist connecting with Jacobs jaw with a meaty thwack that had Claire wincing in sympathetic pain.

"Daddy!" Claire cried, fingers muffling the word against her lips as she witnessed the violence around her. A gentle heart, Claire had never dealt well with violent displays and this one proved no different.

There was a madness in Kyle Winthrop's eyes as stalked towards Jacob again, grabbing the gasping man by the shoulders and driving his knee into his gut. A cruel smile curved his lips, chilling Claire to the core as she desperately dug her nails into his shoulder trying to pull him off.

"Stop it!" Tears were burning her eyes and her stomach was in knots, heart fluttering like a hummingbird behind her ribcage. "Stop it!"

"Get off him!" Scott roared, shoulder-checking Kyle so he stumbled backward where Kate wrapped a hand around his arm to steady him.

"What has gotten into you?" Kate demanded of her boyfriend, the sudden violence shaking her and leaving her conflicted. Her older sister's panicked cries echoing in her ears.

"Don't let him fool you!"

"He's my dad!"

Claire knelt down next to her daddy, trembling hands gentle as they rolled him over to inspect the damage. The three years of pre-med she had managed to get in at Baylor were about to get a workout. Light fingers traced the swelling on his jaw, prodding to make sure nothing was broken or fractured. Blood smeared across her father's skin from where Kyle's ring had split it and Claire softly hushed him. Hands next smoothed over his torso, feeling the dips of his ribs and frowning in concern at her father's sharp gasp of pain. Only sitting back on her heels when she was satisfied that there was only some deep bruises and nothing broken.

"I want you to leave - now!" Kate was firm as she stared down the boy who had said he loved her.

"Fine!" Kyle spat back at her as he moved back towards his truck. Pausing, voice dripping with malice, he shot over his shoulder, "So long, you and your rice monkey brother."

Shooting to her feet Claire latched her arms around Scott's waist as he launched himself towards Kyle with a snarl. Eyes burning she glared at the smug teen from underneath her brothers flailing arms as he dragged her across the dirt in his effort to reach Kyle. With frantic cries to stop, Kate pulled on Scott's arm trying to tug him back.

"Bunch of freaks," Kyle sniggered at them as though he found Scott as intimidating as a yapping chihuahua.

Pressing her forehead between Scott's shoulder-blades she prayed for her brother to calm down. Conflicted on whether or not she should let Scott go, her anger at odds with the ingrained belief that violence begets violence, Claire's fingers curled tighter into her brother's shirt. Leaving the fabric damp as her heart rate once again began to climb. Why couldn't Kyle Winthrop just get in his truck and leave them alone? Did he somehow think that by taunting them and insulting her family Kate would call shotgun and drive off like some love-struck Juliet?

"Let's go, kids," Jacob's voice was gentle as he wrapped his arms around his children, surrounding them with warmth. Pushing down whatever he was feeling and concentrating on comforting them instead. Because that's what fathers did. "Come on, let's go."

As Jacob herded his children away, Claire glanced back over her shoulder to see Kyle staring after them with the strangest expression on his face. It made a shiver run down her spine despite the heat, goosebumps prickling her skin.

For a split second their eyes met and Claire recoiled in shock, blinking rapidly. Unwilling to believe what she had just seen, chalking it up to just being a trick of the sunlight.

Because at that moment she would have sworn up and down that they were bright yellow.

* * *

AN: well here we go, folks, chapter one! I'm hoping having some actual action and a much higher word count will get some more interest.

Remember to read and review.

\- susiesamurai xo


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two - I Sing The Blues And Swallow Them Too**

Sitting on the closed toilet seat, Claire swayed with the rhythmic movement of the RV, staring fixedly at the small plastic container in her hands. Popping the lid off, she tapped one of the little blue pills onto her palm and without another thought, slipped it under her tongue. Grimacing at the bitter taste as she waited for it to fully dissolve.

The former med-student didn't like relying on Xanax to control her anxiety, but following the incident an hour earlier with Kyle Winthrop, Claire could feel her family rapidly approaching a boiling point. She couldn't afford to break down because her daddy would need her support. Her family would need her support.

Why was she hiding in the bathroom though? Because her family didn't know about her anxiety, her panic attacks, or the fact that she was on medication. Throughout most of her adolescence, Claire prayed to god to make her better. Not knowing that it was as much of a legitimate illness as diabetes. Instead, she would pray and try to be better. And then she started college, and her eyes were opened to a whole other world.

One where she learned that the episodes of suffocating panic wasn't God's way of punishing her but rather a biological reaction to emotional distress. That it was within her power to control through aids other than prayer.

Claire Fuller still held faith, she still believed, but now she knew that God had put things in place for his children to help themselves.

It was her nature to try and help people. Her mama and daddy had said so since she was a child, that Claire had a nurturing soul. Mama often running a hand through her hair and telling her that she'd make an amazing mother someday herself. It was why she'd pursued a career in medicine. She had wanted to be a paediatrician and work with children. She wanted to help children. Little angels that couldn't yet help themselves.

Leaning her head against the cracked vinyl wall of the bathroom, Claire waited for the medicine to kick in. It usually took about ten to fifteen minutes. To entertain herself, she tipped the pill bottle side to side like a rain-shaker. Truthfully, she was just stalling on leaving the relative privacy and safety of the bathroom. Not yet wanting to give up her momentary calm for the tension waiting outside that door.

And then the RV jerked harshly and Claire went flying forward.

Grunting in pain as her stomach slammed into the edge of the small basin she managed to catch herself before her face met the small mirror above it. The little pill bottle in her hand dropped into the basin, but thankfully the lid stayed firmly on.

Breathing shallowly against the throbbing spreading across her abdomen, Claire stood hunched over with her hands braced on either side of the mirror. Long wavy hair spilling over her shoulders and brushing the basin below. Once the intense throbbing had eased to a bearable ache she straightened, pushing her hair back with shaky hands. Lifting her shirt, she could already see that the skin beneath her belly-button was red and starting to bruise.

"No bikinis for me," she muttered with a dry laugh.

Her mama had always said she bruised as easily as a peach.

Shouldering the door open, Claire stumbled out of the bathroom and made her way towards the front of the vehicle. Slipping her pill bottle back into her green suede bag tossed on the bench along the way.

Kate was standing between the seats up front, bracing herself while talking to their daddy. Scott was driving. Well, that explained the extreme driving maneuver from before. As Claire approached, she could pick up that Kate was picking at what their father had said earlier about his faith, like a child did with a scab.

Kate spared a glance at her sister when she dropped down onto the seat behind her fathers with a soft wince, but otherwise continued with her questioning. "Daddy, all you've told us our entire lives is to trust in God," there was a pleading undertone to her voice, a desperate need to understand what could shake her father badly enough for him to stray from a lifetime of teachings. Claire couldn't lie, she was also curious about the why. Unlike her sister, however, she was content to wait until her daddy was ready to share it on his own.

"I know," Jacob sighed, irritation beginning to edge his words, "but right now I need you to trust in the pagan power of technology. Please look up that border crossing."

"You don't give up on god," Kate's voice was thick with emotion as she continued to pick, to push, "you don't give up on Him, because he would _never, ever_ give up on you."

Despite her loyalty to her daddy, Claire found herself nodding in agreement with her sister. Reaching out a hand and resting it lightly on top of Kate's, squeezing her fingers softly in solidarity. Jerking in surprise, Kate looked down at the unexpected touch and shot her older sister a gentle smile. Things had been rocky between them since they set off for Mexico but Claire was glad to see that beneath the frustration and hurt and bad decisions, Kate was still there.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, as though to steady himself, Jacob replied, "Kate, I've spent my entire adult life serving the Lord. I know exactly what He's capable of."

There was a tiredness to his words. Not the sort that could be solved with a good night's sleep. But a bone-deep world-weary exhaustion. It broke Claire's heart.

And then the RV broke.

"I didn't do it," Scott blurted as the front of the vehicle belched smoke and made a clunking noise that couldn't mean anything good.

All three Fullers stared at Scott with various expressions of disbelief, annoyance, and resigned acceptance. Hunching his shoulders, Scott tried to will away the heat staining his cheeks and resist the urge to squirm in his seat under the scrutiny of his family. It was tough being the baby, sometimes.

"I told you Scott driving was a bad idea," Kate pointed out with the kind of smugness that only came from an older sister being proven right.

A nervous giggle snorted out of Claire's nose at Kate's words and suddenly she was the one under scrutiny. A beat passed before Kate's lips twitched and giggled in turn, quickly joined by Scott. Meanwhile, Jacob gazed at his laughing children bemusedly, as though wondering if they had all finally snapped.

Sobering, Claire delicately wiped under her eyes and beamed at her father, "Come on, daddy, if we don't laugh, we'll cry."

A soft chuckle rumbled in Jacob's chest as he switched seats with Scott to safely direct the RV to the side of the road.

"Ain't that the truth, Claire-Bear. Ain't that the truth."

* * *

It was a stroke of luck that The Old Coupland Inn wasn't more than a stone's throw away.

A dusty little biker bar. To the Fullers, it looked like water in the desert. Between all four of them, they only had the mechanical skill set of changing tires and checking the oil. As it was quickly discovered, Jacob hadn't even had the foresight to pack the tired Winnebago with a basic tool-set. Something that had all three of his children blinking at him in disbelief, and Claire berating herself for not thinking of checking before they'd left.

With a reassuring smile that fell just short of reassuring, Jacob strode into the dimly lit bar with instructions to his children to wait in the RV. Including Claire, despite her being above the legal drinking age, on the off chance there were bikers inside of the possible biker bar. It wasn't that Jacob didn't trust his daughter around men, but more that he didn't trust men around his daughter. There was a softness about Claire that drew in a certain kind of man, and that kind of man was one he wanted as far away from Claire as humanly possible.

And ever the good girl, Claire did as her daddy asked.

Sitting next to Scott on the couch, they read through the comic opened across his lap together, Claire using it as an opportunity to improve her younger brother's Spanish. She had taken it through high school, and gotten pretty high marks in it too. As proven by her decision to learn Mandarin at thirteen, Claire was very good with languages. Especially spoken, being able to use visual cues to translate whatever she was unsure of by hearing alone.

Sitting across from them, Kate drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin against them, arms hugging tight around her legs. There was an almost yearning in her gaze as she watched their heads bowed together. It hadn't always been that way. Once it was the three of them against the world. But after Kate started high school and Claire had moved away for school, something changed. The dynamic changed.

Instead of it being Kate _and _Scott against the world, it turned into just Kate and Scott. Living under the same roof but having separate lives. Scott had gotten into his music, had developed this _anger_, that Kate couldn't understand. It made it hard for them to relate to each other. The only thing they both seemed to have in common now was Claire and their faith.

It was a sad realization that came upon Kate. While she may love her brother, she no longer knew who he was.

That was the funny thing about epiphanies. They very rarely came to you with a gentle hand and soft voice. Instead, it was like a punch to the gut and a scream loud enough to leave you dazed.

Which was why she was slow to react when Scott frowned at her and asked, "Why do you gotta be such a be-yotch?"

Frowning, Claire was quick to elbow him in the side for speaking like that to his sister. Knowing it was light compared to what their father would have done if he'd heard such language. "Don't talk to Katie that way."

Scott screwed up his face at Claire in remorse, the little seed of jealousy in Kate's belly growing a tiny bit bigger. That same jealousy she held towards her older sister ever since she had been old enough to know what it was. Blonder, skinnier, smarter. Claire always made life seem so easy.

"I don't know," Kate sighed, confused herself by the anger that seemed to rear its head whenever she spoke with her daddy lately. Desperately wanting to be treated like an adult, an equal. For her daddy to realize that giving up on God wasn't the answer. That Kate _needed _answers to what happened to her mama. "Because he's going against everything he's believed his entire life?"

"And why do you keep asking him questions about the accident?" Scott's voice got louder as he leaned closer towards her, eyes narrowing. "And why do you care? Sometimes you sound like you think it's _his_ fault."

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes at his words, lip trembling as she refused to let them spill over. Swallowing, she said thickly, "I never said that, Scott."

All it took was for Claire to lift up her arm and beckon her younger sister with a soft smile to send Kate burrowing into her side. Shifting, Claire curled her other arm around Scott's shoulders also, pulling her siblings in tight. Tipping her head back and blinking rapidly at the ceiling in an effort to control her own emotions, the Xanax she had taken earlier helping.

Kate breathed deep, taking in the scent of apple-pie that always lingered around her sister. So similar to their mother. Cinnamon and vanilla and apple blossom. Both comforting and making the onslaught of tears she held back threaten to return.

"I'm sorry," Kate mumbled into the soft cotton of Claire's tank top. Shifting her head to look at her brother she added, exasperated, "Okay? I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Katie," Claire murmured as her fingers lightly trailed through Kate's hair, reminding her of her mama so much it physically hurt.

Pulling away, Kate finally burst.

"No, it's not alright! Dad's losing it. He's not in a good place right now. And - but we never had to worry about that kind of stuff because mom always knew how to take care of him _and_ us." At the shocked look on Claire's face, Kate added, "but none of us can take her place. We can't fix him. _We don't know how to be mom_." Pausing for breath Kate spat out, "And I seem to be the only one willing to try, instead of enabling him like the two of you."

Silence permeated the RV following her words. Kate both wanting to take them back, but also not regretting finally voicing her thoughts. Neither Scott nor Claire had protested to this lunatic road trip. It was obvious to Kate that what her daddy needed to regain his faith was his church and the good people of Bethel. Not some crazy Mexican adventure.

So caught up in her righteousness was Kate that when Claire started laughing, she jumped in surprise. What started as a snorting giggle turned into laughter strong enough her older sister clutched at her stomach in pain. Gasping as she calmed down, Claire fixed Kate with those gentle green eyes of hers and asked, "Katie, remember when you were younger and I told you not to climb the tree in the backyard and you said 'don't tell me what to do' and climbed it?"

"Yeah…" Kate scrunched her brow in thought, "I fell and broke my ankle, spent the rest of the summer in a cast."

"Exactly," Claire smiled as though she had won something, "do you think my telling you not to do it made a lick of difference?"

"No, I was gonna do it anyway," Kate answered. "Scott had bet me his dessert for the next week I couldn't make it to the top."

"Now, tell me why you think I'm not telling daddy not to go to Mexico."

Oh. _Oh_. If life were a cartoon there would have been a big old light bulb clicking on over top of Kate's head right about then.

"Because he'd just do it anyway," Kate's eyes were wide with realization. Plus a little bit of guilt for her accusations towards her sister and the complaints she had made to Kyle. Shame nipped at her as she admitted that over the last few months she hadn't been acting very Christian-like at all.

Scott, meanwhile, gazed at his older sister with a kind of surprised respect. As though the thought that she could ever be sneaky or manipulative never crossed his mind in his life. Ever. And then quickly frowned as he began to wonder if she'd ever head-shrunk him at any point in their lives.

"Exactly," Claire nodded, saying softly but with a lot of feeling, "please don't think I'm not as worried as you are, Katie-Kakes. I am. I just know how to pick my battles."

A loud banging from the front of the RV made all three Fullers jump, Scott uttering "Cheese and rice!" in surprise.

A stern look from Claire showed she had caught his slip and Scott rolled his eyes good-naturedly as his sister rose from the couch to investigate.

Sticking her head out of the door, Claire leaned forward and called out, "Everything okay out here, daddy? You're making an awful racket."

"Don't worry Claire-Bear," Jacob called out from the front, sounding short on breath. His eldest frowned in concern, "just banging something into place. Won't be much longer!"

Face pinched, in a way that said she didn't quite believe him - after all, why would you have to bang a hose into place - Claire nonetheless left him to it. Pushing Kate back from where she had wedged herself under Claire's elbow to peer out in the process.

Clapping her hands before rubbing them together, Claire beamed at her siblings with an excitement she didn't feel but did an admirable job of projecting. She didn't enjoy being suspicious of her own father, but he didn't make it easy not to be lately. But she owed him this. And owed her siblings all the happiness she could provide.

"Alright kiddos, who's up for some rummy?"

* * *

"Daddy?"

Whiskey sliding hot down his throat, Jacob turned to find his eldest gazing at him in astonishment. "Claire-Bear!" He called out, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he beckoned her closer, "There's my little girl!" That happiness all too quickly curdling deep in his stomach and twisting into shame as her pretty features softened with pity.

That shame only grew as Kate stepped out from behind her sister, a disappointed shadow with crossed arms and accusing eyes.

"And little Katie-Kakes," Jacob added in a more subdued tone, his good mood turning morose. Leaning towards his new friend Earl, Jacob confided, "Little Katie's always looking for the family toolbox, trying to find ways to fix her old man."

The way that both his daughters stood there, staring at him, struck him as being reminiscent of Jennifer. The set of their shoulders, the curve of their cheeks, one hip cocked slightly to the side. It was a sobering thought and he lifted a hand to signal the bartender, hoping that maybe more of that whiskey would dull the ache in his chest. It had been doing a good job of it so far, at least. Achieving more than his time spent on his knees praying to a god who never answered. A god who wasn't quite so benevolent as he'd believed.

"I think you've had enough, daddy," Claire said softly, her hand firmly pushed his down, signaling with her eyes that the bartender better back up and keep that whiskey bottle far away. "Why are you in here anyway?"

"We were waiting for the engine to cool down," Jacob frowned, words slurring at the edges as he looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers beneath his daughter's grip. Recalling the burn he received earlier that prompted his outburst. The wrench heavy in his hand, the sound of metal on metal ringing in his ears. Rage and frustration pouring forth in a torrent as the dam had finally burst.

"Well," Claire started with a side-eye at Earl who looked visibly chastened by the younger woman, "I'm no mechanic but I'd say an hour is about long enough, don't you?"

At her expectant look, Earl was quick to reply, "Uh...yes-yes ma'am."

"Come on, daddy," Kate pleaded, arms wrapped around herself as she cast anxious looks around the dark room. "Let's go."

"You girls go on ahead," Jacob told them, not enjoying the uncomfortable look on Kate's face but also not yet ready to leave, "I'll catch up after I square things with Darlene here."

Darlene looked over from where she was wiping out a tumbler further down the bar, a reassuring smile curving her dark painted lips. "Don't worry honey," she drawled as she made eye-contact with Claire, "I'll send your daddy and Earl out in a few minutes."

Eyes narrowing as she considered the slightly older woman, Claire finally nodded. Wrapping an arm around her sister's shoulders, she began to steer her away with the parting words, "We'll see you in a few minutes then."

"That daughter of yours sure is something."

Jacob looked over to find Earl staring in the direction his daughters had gone, a thoughtful look on the young man's face. Following his gaze, Jacob watched as they were waylaid by an older man with blond hair and glasses. After a short exchange of words, his girls continued on their way, the man shaking his head with a bemused expression on his face. It appeared his girls seemed to have that effect on men.

"She sure is," Jacob agreed with a rueful shake of his head, "more than this old fool deserves."

Claire had always been the apple of his eye. The day she was born, all soft and pink and wrinkled, she had gazed up at him with those bright eyes and he couldn't help but think that he hadn't known love until that moment. Yes, he had loved his wife. Loved Jennifer with a passion so fierce that her absence left a tangible ache inside. But that little girl nestled in his arms had pierced him with one look and he knew that no matter what she did, he would love her. Living a life of worship, dedicating himself to the Lord, he had thought he'd known unconditional love well.

And then that little girl had turned everything he thought he had known on its head.

Growing up, Claire taught him more and more about unconditional love every day. She embodied it herself. Gentle and kind. He had yet to encounter another soul that so encapsulated the teachings he himself had preached every Sunday. Which was why he found it hard to look at her without feeling shame crawl thick up his throat. His beautiful little girl was so much more than he deserved. A failure who couldn't even save his own wife. A failure who couldn't even save himself.

Slipping off his chair, Jacob dropped a couple of twenties onto the stained wooden bar. Taking off his hat, he raked his fingers through his hair before dropping it back down. It was time to get back on the road. Time to get back to his family and stop wallowing in memories and guilt.

There would be plenty of time for that later.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three - We Can Escape To The Great Sunshine**

Seth Gecko was fucked six ways to Sunday.

Being Seth Gecko, however, he would never admit so out loud without aggressively denying it first with extreme prejudice. It was just how it was. How he was. Everything was falling apart around him and yet he still desperately tried to cling to the quickly fraying edges of The Plan. Sliding through blood-slippery hands.

In the last six hours, he had more blood on his hands than he had accumulated in the last ten years. It was a point of pride to him to only kill when absolutely necessary. He was a professional thief, not a fucking gang-banger robbing a liquor store. And because Richie couldn't stick to The Plan, he had half a dozen corpses cooling on the Abilene pavement, a woman tied up in the trunk, and half of Texas up his fucking ass.

All he wanted was a goddamn break.

Leaving Richie alone in a hotel room with that bank teller hadn't struck him as a bad idea at the time. Sure, his brother had been a little off lately but it was probably the stress of everything going wrong. The constant improvisation wasn't helping anyone's nerves, but once they got to El Rey, everything would be fine. They just had to get across the border, get to Carlos, and it'd be nothing but clear skies and paradise from there on out.

But first, there was one last loose end to tie up.

Pulling into the parking lot of the Big Kahuna Burger, Seth couldn't help but feel a little ridiculous as he checked himself in the rearview mirror. Smoothing his hair and straightening his tie. Old habits die hard and he'd spent the better half of his twenties trying to look good for this specific woman.

Walking up to the counter, Seth was greeted by the perkiest damn teenage girl he had ever seen. Auburn hair bobbing around her face, her eyes lit up at the sight of him as she practically sung, "Aloha! Welcome to the Big Kahuna Burger!" Leaning forward playfully, she licked her glossy pink lips, trying to gain his attention from where it wandered to the restaurant behind her, "Would you like to try our Special Agent Utah meal?"

Drumming his fingers against the counter, Seth continued to sweep the area, slapping his hands down in succession when he finally found what he was looking for. Ignoring the young girl and the way her eyes trailed over the width of his shoulders and the size of his biceps, Seth strode forward with single-minded purpose.

"Sir?"

Dark-rimmed blue eyes met his across the room as she pushed her fall of dark hair back with a hand. Seth was frustrated and antsy and had spent most of his day jacked up on adrenaline and whatever liquor he could get his hands on. So when that wicked pink tongue of hers peeked out and ran over those pretty lips, he couldn't help the heat curling deep in his gut. It was an automatic reaction. After being married to Vanessa Style's for four years and divorced for three, it was like his body didn't know what else to do. Richie once commenting after one too many beers that she dragged Seth around by the dick, conditioning him like some Pavlovian dog.

To say that that night had ended in a fist fight wasn't much of a surprise.

Catching her by the wrist as he walked past, Seth was quick to drag her into the nearest restroom, taking only the time to lock the door behind them before lifting her up on the sink. Her hands were in his hair and her legs tight around his waist, those pretty lips pressed firmly to his own. There was nothing gentle about the way they kissed. It was rough and bruising and demanding, Seth desperate for an outlet for the tension keeping him wound tighter than a damn spring.

"How come we never did this when we were married?" Vanessa's voice was husky, her nimble fingers made short work of the buttons on his shirt. Eyes flicking up to meet his as she bit down on her bottom lip, a short laugh escaping him at her question while his hands pressed insistently against her ribs. It was exhilarating and he knew exactly what she meant.

In reply, Seth unbuttoned the top off her pants, lowering the zip enough to fit his hand into her panties, both moaning as his fingers slipped between her folds. Jesus Christ was she wet. Dragging his fingers back up, he circled her clit twice before plunging two fingers inside her. Moaning at the sudden fullness, Vanessa ground her clit against the heel of his hand while roughly dragging him down for another frantic kiss.

Almost biting at his lips, the nails of her other hand trailed down his chest and scratched lightly at the dips of his abdomen. Tracing the lines of muscle until she reached his belt. Deft fingers had him unzipped and in hand fast enough to make him dizzy, throbbing as she wasted no time in pumping him with steady strokes. Thumb rolling over the tip just the way he liked it.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest as he pulled away from her grasp and tugged her pants down over the swell of her hips. Turning her around to face the mirror he braced her against the sink, spreading her legs as wide as the material around her knees allowed. Without warning he buried himself inside her, Vanessa gasping in a high-pitched hiccup as he bottomed out. Normally he wasn't this rough, one hand palming her tit while the other clutched her hip hard enough to bruise.

However, nothing about today could be described as normal.

With every thrust, Seth tried to forget the fuck ups of the day, instead burying his nose in the hair at the nape of Vanessa's neck. Inhaling the smell of her shampoo and sweat and sex. Losing himself in the rhythmic slap of skin on skin and wet sucking sounds that only came with getting a woman good and wet. Something that made him swell with male pride as his hips snapped against hers even harder.

If there was one thing Seth Gecko was honest about, it was his ability to fuck like a freight train.

Feeling himself rapidly approaching his end, the hand on her hip dipped between her legs, roughly rolling her clit between his fingers. Teeth grazed the back of her neck as Vanessa's legs began to tremble. Close, so close.

"Come on, honey," Seth's voice was low and rough against the softness of her skin, "you can do it."

Breath escaping her in nothing but high-pitched gasps now, there was a moment of stillness before Seth felt her clench down tight. Not giving any quarter, he continued his brutal pace, coiling tighter and tighter until he finally let go. Feeling it tingle in the base of his spine as his brain short-circuited with his release and a guttural moan escaped from the force of it. A full body shudder ran through him as he pulled Vanessa flush against him, lazily thrusting a few times before falling still.

They stayed like that, Seth draped over her with his dick still twitching inside, as they both caught their breath. Looking up, Seth caught her eye in the mirror and was pleased to see that Vanessa looked thoroughly fucked. Shirt pulled halfway up her chest, hand still on her tit while his other gripped her inner thigh, hair a tousled cloud around her face. If his shit-eating grin got any wider it would probably threaten to split his face in half.

Giggling like teenagers, they cleaned themselves up, Seth giving Vanessa a playful slap on the ass on her way out the door. Exuding smugness as he continued to do up the buttons on his shirt, jacket carelessly slung over his arm, Seth exited a few moments after. An older lady stared at him openly with disgust and he winked at her as he walked past. Enjoying her scandalized gasp and the blush that colored her cheeks. Give the old broad a thrill to share with her bingo buddies.

Sliding into the bench opposite Vanessa, he checked his watch, warning bells in the back of his mind sounding at staying out in public for too long. Now that some of that tension had been released Seth was thinking a little more clearly. And that clearer thinking was urging him to finish up his business here and get the hell out of dodge.

"I was getting worried you wouldn't show up," Vanessa admitted, smiling a little too wide.

"Yeah," Seth avoided her gaze as he placed his jacket on the bench next to him, "we, uh, got a little waylaid."

Leaning closer Vanessa said, "you shouldn't be here. You guys are all over the news," pausing she cocked her head consideringly, "you gonna order something?"

Drumming his hands against the table, Seth leaned closer before his head swung around, surveying his surroundings once again as her words brought his paranoia back full-force. Then again, you weren't paranoid if they were really out to get you right?

If it weren't for his sense of humor, however black it was, Seth was sure he would've been dead long ago.

"In a second," Seth tried to get to the point, "now Vanessa -"

"Where's Richie?" She cut him off, looking around with exaggerated movements as though she half expected his brother to sprout forth from the fake potted plant in the corner, "is he in the car?"

"No, we're laying low, at a motel nearby," Seth made his voice soothing, placating, recognizing the signs of Vanessa approaching a full-fledged bitch-fit. Pushing her hair back behind her ears her chest rapidly rose and fell as she got more worked up. Reaching out Seth grasped for her hands, "Now, uh, just listen to me honey. Um, the plan's changed."

"Changed?"

"Yeah."

"Plans don't change," Vanessa pulled her hands from his grip as her voice began to rise in pitch, "isn't that what you always say? No matter what you stick to the plan." Gesturing with her hand at every point she spoke slowly as though he were a dimwitted child, "we meet here, we cross together. That's how we designed it."

"Yes, um," Seth desperately tried to gain control of the conversation again, "but what I failed to mention is that sometimes plans get better." He announced this with a flourish of his hands, like a showman.

With a teasing grin, Vanessa shimmied forward, "what's better than you and me on a beach in Cancun?"

"You being alive, for one," Seth was blunt, trying to convey how serious he was with his eyes. Rifling through his jacket pockets he emerged with the bonds he had put aside earlier, answering Vanessa's curious "what's that?" by slapping them onto the table. Stabbing at them with a finger he declared, "that's how it gets better."

Glancing around once again, the hair on the back of his neck on end, he said, "Alright, now that's over four million in bearer bonds, all right?" Meeting her gaze he continued deathly serious, "now, you're gonna take this to Warren Pritchard at K.C Financial. He's gonna convert it for you, then he's gonna wash the money nice and clean. Honey, after that," he grinned wide at her as she nodded along, "you're gonna be set. Do you understand? You're not gonna need a thing."

"For me?"

"All of it."

"Every cent?"

"He's not even gonna charge you a fee," Seth reassured, missing the warning signs brewing in his ex-wife's tone and expressions. The slight edge to her words, the exaggerated widening of her eyes. "I'm gonna take care of that - don't even worry about it."

"Baby, that's…" Vanessa shook her head disbelievingly, Seth assuming that his sudden generosity had taken her by surprise.

"Right?" He agreed, smiling widely. A feeling of magnanimity spreading through him like slipping into a warm bath as it just solidified his belief that he was taking care of her. Being a good man and taking care of his woman.

"It feels like Vegas in here," Vanessa's accent grew thicker with every word, becoming a lazy Southern drawl, "and I can hear the bells dingin'." Seth nodded his head with her description and she continued with a little shimmy of her shoulders and a widening grin, "I feel like one of those obese ladies sliding quarters into a big ol' plastic cup. Just me and my fat ass swallowin' up a chair."

Unsure on how to respond to that last comparison, Seth just waved a hand in the air and ducked his head with a grin. Ecstatic that she was taking it so well, not making a scene in the middle of the fast-food joint like she had so many times in the past. A crescent-shaped scar behind his left ear a souvenir from the time his smart mouth went a little too far and Vanessa smashed a bottle over his head.

"Wow."

And with that one word, Seth knew he was fucked.

Eyes narrowing minutely before widening while her lips curved into a sharp smile, Vanessa's saccharine tone instantly put Seth on edge.

"Do you remember our honeymoon?"

A tick formed in his jaw as he grit his teeth and forced a smile in reply. Needing to stay in control of the situation. Warning bells dinging just like the ones in Vegas.

"That - that time I won at Keno, in the Bellagio?" Leaning further forward, her breath ghosting across his face as she prodded, "Do you remember?"

"Yes, yes," nodding his head, Seth desperately tried to follow where she was going with this, what the play was. The night in question a drunken blur lurking in the back of his mind.

Vanessa settled in as though it were storytime at fucking kindergarten, "It was about four in the morning. I'll never forget it because this, uh, this call girl took the seat next to us."

"Oh, yeah?" Wracking his brain Seth couldn't recall what she was talking about to save his life. There had been many a call girl during their honeymoon - it was fucking _Vegas_.

"She'd just come down from doing her business upstairs, and she ordered - I'll never forget this," Vanessa shook her head, "she ordered a short stack of buttermilks and a black coffee."

"Yeah," Seth chuckled as though anything she was saying was anything more than an extremely awkward retelling of a moment he couldn't recollect.

"Remember what you said?"

Suddenly feeling extremely warm, Seth fought the urge to pull at his shirt collar, even though it was already unbuttoned. Didn't this place have air-conditioning? Sweat beaded between his shoulder blades and he shifted in place.

"Uh, no," he admitted, "no I don't. What'd I say?"

"You said: _I guess that's what whores eat_."

With those words, the easy grin on his face faltered and he felt as though Vanessa had punched him in the stomach. The scar behind his ear began to itch and he leaned back slightly considering his immediate surroundings for any potential bludgeoning weapons.

"I thought to myself, _how must that feel_? How must that feel for her to walk into that cafeteria and know that everyone there knows that she sleeps with people for money," Vanessa sneered, nose scrunched up and blue eyes wide, "how must it feel when everyone in the room knows that you're a whore? I guess I know now."

"Vanessa, I swear to you -"

Barely giving him a chance to explain, to apologize, Vanessa cut him off, "I am not a whore, and I am not your bitch. You know what I am Seth? I'm your partner. And you know what partners do? They make plans and they honor those plans and they stick to them."

"Okay honey, I know that. That's not -"

"Did you forget that I cased that bank for three weeks?" Once again she refused to let him speak, voice steadily increasing in volume. Seth nervously glanced around them as information continued to drip from her lips like poison. "That I knew every teller's schedule upside down, inside out? That I knew they'd be stocking that ATM when you pushed your way in? It is not my fault that you and your brother are the most wanted fugitives in the world now. _That is on you_."

Those last four words struck him like a bullet, one after the other. Bam. Bam. Bam. _Bam_. Vanessa had always had a way with words, an uncanny ability to find his weak spot and strike with the same precision she could with her fists. Throwing every mistake, every fuck up, in his face like laying out receipts on a table.

"Okay, but that is exactly why we need to cross alone right now. Do you understand -" His jaw worked as she fixed him with those big blue eyes and the words died in his throat. A headache was forming in his left temple as his teeth were clenched so tightly they creaked.

"I baked you a carrot cake every year with real cream cheese frosting."

The _fuck_? What did that have to do with stopping her from being a casualty in the next inevitable police shoot-out? Especially if Richie kept acting like a complete fucking lunatic. Guilt tickled at the base of his spine with every word leaving her mouth. He hated it.

"What?"

"I lit candles, blew them out."

"Yes, honey, I know. I know you did," reaching out he once again caught her hands in his, thumb running across her knuckles as his features softened.

"Five times. Five years. You think all that time I was waiting for some money? I was waiting for _you_," voice growing thick with emotion, Vanessa blinked and took a deep breath before looking up at him through her lashes, "because I love you."

And just like every other time Vanessa had pulled that move, Seth Gecko was screwed.


End file.
